‘Simon Waterhouse,’ he says abruptly; it’s almost a grunt. ‘You Jemma Stelling?’
I don’t know what I was expecting, but it wasn’t this.
‘She’s here to confess to the murder of a Marianne Upton, and says there’s no body,’ Sergeant Zailer tells him, pronouncing each word distinctly, as if this is his first encounter with the English language.His wife. Who thinks he’s a dick.
I wonder if there’s a different police station I could go to. Silsford, maybe – that’s not too far. These two are making me want to run away, but they probably won’t let me leave given what I’ve already told them. Then again, maybe they’d shrug and say, ‘See you.’ There’s something not quite right about either of them, and both of them together.
It’s as if they’re impersonating police officers. Badly.
‘Why’s there no body?’ Waterhouse asks me.
‘Can we go somewhere more—’
‘Why no body?’
Feeling his words like something tightening around me, I take a deep breath. ‘I haven’t killed her yet.’
‘For God’s sake.’ Sergeant Zailer lets out an expansive sigh. ‘Then … how about you carry on not killing her, or anyone else? Then there’ll be no problem, will there? I think you’re afantasist time-waster who probably has no clue that planning a murder is also a serious crime.’
‘If I hadn’t come here, she’d have been killed today,’ I say. I want to explain everything properly, from the beginning, alone in a room with a serious, attentive detective. At the same time, now that I’ve started, I can’t stop talking. ‘Her murder would be happening now, but it isn’t. Instead, I’m here talking to you. But … I’ve got a fully worked-out plan, one I’ve been working on for months. And I’d have got away with it. No one would have been able to prove it was me. If it weren’t for the fact that I’ve got a thirteen-year-old daughter, I’d have allowed the inevitable to happen, but I don’t want to risk—’
‘What “inevitable”?’ asks Sergeant Zailer.
Hasn’t she been listening to me?
‘I think I know what you mean, but I don’t want to assume,’ she says.
I spell it out. ‘Marianne’s murder. That’s the inevitable. Or it was, before I came here. Which I did because I can’t take even the tiniest risk of going to prison and leaving my daughter alone, so—’
‘Alone? What about your husband, Paddy Stelling?’ Sergeant Zailer emphasises his name, as if she suspects me of inventing him.
DC Waterhouse isn’t looking at either of us. He’s staring straight ahead, unblinking, like a dubious piece of public art that no sensible organisation would want in its foyer.
‘Anyone who’s only got Paddy is effectively alone.’ The words are out before I can stop them. ‘Even if he were different, which he never can be … I don’t want Lottie to have a convicted murderer as a mother. I’m already a murderer inside – that won’t change – but I’m not yet a murderer who’s committed a crime, and it was getting more and more obvious every daythat I would soon become one if I didn’t do the unthinkable: come here and confess, like I am now. I tried a hundred times to tell myself, “Don’t do it, don’t think about the plan, don’t take the next step”, but it wouldn’t go away. I started to do things to—’
DC Waterhouse yawns in my face.
‘What the hell is wrong with you?’ I ask him.
‘He’s having a bad day,’ says Sergeant Zailer. ‘Carry on, since we’ve got this far. You’d started to – what?’
‘Lay the groundwork. Despite all my fears and attempts to rein it in, I was acting like someone who was going to do it. It took up every inch of space in my mind: that I could make Marianne not exist any more, and so easily. Without any negative consequence, apart from the big one: living with the risk of getting caught, maybe one day actually getting caught. However much you imagine you’ve thought of everything, that can always happen, can’t it? That’s why I had to come here. This is the only way for it to be over. If I tell you what I’d planned, then I’ll never do it. My life will go back to normal, which isn’t wonderful, but it’s so much better thanthis.And there’ll be no risk of Lottie losing her mum to a long prison sentence.’
‘Telling us will be enough to stop you from doing it?’ Sergeant Zailer asks. ‘Is that the idea?’
I nod. I knew it would work, and I can feel a subtle difference already. The evil that’s been burrowing into me for so long is still there, but it’s loosened its hold and is now standing off to the side. There’s distance between us. ‘Telling the police kills my plan stone dead,’ I say. ‘Now, if anything were to happen to Marianne, you’d know I was behind it. The chance of me getting away with it would be zero. So please, can one of you take my statement?’
I’m no longer sure that my first choice is DC Waterhouse.Charlotte Zailer might only be a sergeant and not a detective, but she seems far more skilled when it comes to interacting with other humans. ‘And … I think you probably have to tell Marianne, don’t you?’ I direct this at Waterhouse. Let Marianne get a visit from him; I’d enjoy imagining that, if I knew it was happening. ‘You’ll need to warn her, presumably, that I’ve come in and said all this? I mean, there’s been a threat to her life. I assume you have a duty to inform her.’
‘According to you, the threat is now non-existent,’ Sergeant Zailer points out.
‘You’re not going to warn her? What, you’re just going to take my word for it that I won’t do it now?’ These two don’t give a toss, clearly. Maybe their top priority is keeping their to-do list as light as possible. ‘I don’t care, as long as you take my statement. It has to be on record: how I was going to do it and get away with it.’ The police deciding I’m no danger to anyone and sending me home is not good enough. Nowhere near.
DC Waterhouse has started to walk away. ‘Follow me,’ he calls over his shoulder, and then: ‘Which room?’
How am I supposed to know? You’re the one who works here.
‘Four.’ Sergeant Zailer calls out, her voice echoing along the tiled corridor. ‘Go on.’ She nods at me for emphasis and I realise I need to move. Follow. Even though no one who wanted to improve any aspect of their life or anyone else’s would allow the weird, dead-eyed detective-husband to lead them anywhere.
